


It Was Always You, Falling For Me

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confusion, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous POV Switching, HEA, HOW DID I ACCIDENTALLY MAKE THIS SLOW BURN, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I wish I was drunk, It was always you - Freeform, Light Angst, Sort Of, Time Travel Fix-It, Tropes abound, did I write a Romione breakup fic?, how is it dramione you might be asking?, idk it might be slightly soulmates too, indeed i did, it was all a dream, it'll make sense I promise, muse decided she wanted short scenes for the lulz, they're all drunk, waking up in an alternate timeline, well read on for these shenanigans because the plot is sketchy af, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Written for Strictly Dramione's Valentines day Fic Exchange Fest 2020Weaverofdreams45, your prompt was exactly the kind of thing I prayed for (my muse on the other hand had her doubts, but look, theres words, so yay!)Prompt:“Its always been you.”No squicks or triggers; enemies to lovers, roommates, time travel, MUST BE HEAoOoIt was nothing.It was a game.Yes, a silly little game, played by silly people who, in spite of their differences, often came together to drown their grief in excessive amounts of firewhiskey and spiked butterbeer.The first time Hermione Granger kissed Draco Malfoy she hadn’t known it was him.She couldn’t reiterate enough:It was a game, nothing more; one she hadn’t particularly wanted to take part in (but she was buzzed and glad to prove a point).
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, not Romione for long muhahha
Comments: 25
Kudos: 75
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weaverofdreams45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaverofdreams45/gifts).



oOo

It was nothing.

It was a game.

Yes, a silly little game, played by silly people who, in spite of their differences, often came together to drown their grief in excessive amounts of firewhiskey and spiked butterbeer.

The first time Hermione Granger kissed Draco Malfoy she hadn’t known it was him.

She couldn’t reiterate enough: _It was a game_ , nothing more; one she hadn’t particularly wanted to take part in (but she was buzzed and glad to prove a point).

Of course, it all started with Ron opening his obnoxious mouth, disagreeing with Blaise Zabini loudly enough to draw the attention of his fellow Slytherins who knew just how to manipulate her boyfriend into giving them his galleons.

“What are you implying, snake boy?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, sarcastically muttering something to the effect of ‘How creative.’ under his breath

“I’m not implying anything Weasel, I’m stating a fact; if we blindfolded your little lioness and had ten people kiss her, she would know which one was you one hundred per cent of the time because you’re so terrible at it.”

The Slytherins cheered and she was certain she heard Luna pipe in with ‘Oof, burn!’.

Blaise turned to face her then, catching her mid blush. She turned on her heel, stubbornly pretending that she couldn’t hear them.

Alas, it was the truth and Blaise Zabini knew it. He smirked and returned to his ridiculous conversation.

“-Look at her, I’ve never seen a woman look tenser. It says everything about your performance.”

She loathed that it wasn’t a lie; That she had to be dishonest with her partner and herself.

“Get bent Zabini, you can’t just say something like that about my soulmate and get a-.”

“You sure you wanna continue that thought, _mate_? Pretty sure if she wanted to Hermione could stand up for you and herself.” Pansy interjected.

There were a few assorted ‘ooohs’ from those listening on the fringes.

“Ugh who invited you, Parkinson?!”

Pansy crossed her arms defensively, quirking her brow with no small amount of attitude.

“When a woman is that far out of your league… Well, let’s just say, if I was in her shoes, I’d be looking for a beautifully designed and manicured garden instead or greener pastures than the likes of whatever unkempt dried out field you are.”

“Oh, go and shove your opinions where the sun doesn’t shine, Parkinson!”

“That’s really the best you can do? Thank Merlin I was always bound for Slytherin, not an ounce of witty banter between the lot of you… ‘Cept for the Golden girl that is… Hic!”

Ron gaped wordlessly at her, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

Blaise turned to Pansy, feigning whispering in her ear but speaking loudly for everyone to benefit from his humour.

“See, bet that’s exactly what he does when he tries it on with Hermione.”

Ron’s face turned an ugly shade of puce and Hermione knew the night was about to turn truly sour.

“IT IS NOT!!!”

“Wanna put money on it?”

Well, now that caught Ron’s attention.

“And how do you propose we do that? I’m just supposed to sit here and let her kiss every guy in the room to see if she can figure out which one is me?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrow, mischief darting across his features, he didn’t have to say a word…

Five minutes of solid convincing later (four and a half of which were just for show, she honestly didn’t care); She sat, hands folded primly in her lap, stock-still and blindfolded in the centre of the living room provided by the room of requirement, waiting for yet another person to step forward and kiss her.

By the end there were two resoundingly _annoying_ results.

Before she’d even taken her blindfold off, she knew Ron had been her fifth kiss, Blaise had undeniably won the bet (how to work around her boyfriend’s ego would be sober Hermione’s problem). Not only was there an obscene, unnecessary amount of tongue, but there was also no art, no finesse or tenderness; it felt like a chore to let him anywhere near her half the time.

However, somewhere down the line, number nine had snogged her as though his life depended on it. Hands down it was the best kiss of her life and she had no idea who it could have possibly been.

Something foreign fluttered in her chest, something she wouldn’t dare acknowledge. One kiss changed nothing, she still loved Ron… Didn’t she? Sure, intimacy felt like an imposition, but she could overcome that… Right?

Why was she doubting everything so strongly all of a sudden?

When the blindfold was removed her curiosity bounded past her mental restraints, her gaze glossed over Ron, counting down until her eyes flicked to the person standing in ninth place.

Platinum blond hair, perfectly tailored robes, grey eyes and a guilty expression on his face.  
Why him? Of all people? Hermione’s cheeks began to flame.

She couldn’t have cared less that Michael Corner, Seamus and Theo Nott were also in the line-up.

Draco Malfoy, git extraordinaire, ferret-face, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach had given her the most thorough, passionate kiss of her life; bar none.

She fumed in her seat, fists clenched tightly, rage tinging her vision as she tried to fight the aftereffects; his scent clung to the air around her, cloying and rich, the soft press of his lips, tentative and warm until it grew into something ferociously emotional, still lingered… She shifted in her seat only to feel her knickers dampen further… Merlin above, what was wrong with her!

She snuck one last look at him only to meet his intense stare, and that was it...

She fell off her chair. A flash of pain later and everything cut to black.

oOo

Every last bit of oxygen felt like it had been drained from the room, Hermione’s eyelids fluttered while she adjusted to the light and as her sight cleared her focus narrowed.

Morning light shone through a thin split in unfamiliar, dark curtains and Hermione squinted at it with disdain.

Her head was pounding, and her mouth was dry, as though she’d chewed the corner of her pillow all night.

What on god’s green earth had happened last night?

She rolled over, fighting the immediate nausea moving brought with it. Sweet Circe, this hangover was going to be hell.

Overwhelmed with regret she tried to figure out just how much damage control was required and was immediately granted a vivid flashback.

She wasn’t quite certain when she had regained consciousness, but she had a clear memory of taking one look at Draco and bolting from the room faster than you could say quidditch, her head spinning wildly.

After sprinting down the hall, she knew exactly what she’d signalled by running, everyone in attendance had been watching that ridiculous spectacle and it would have been impossible to miss the way she opened up for him, how _she_ kissed him back.

Easy enough to blame on her being blindfolded; Right?

WRONG!

If they’d seen her with Draco, they’d seen her with Ron and the two experiences had been apples and oranges to view, that much she knew. There was no mistake to be made.

Beelining for the nearest bathroom, she kicked her way through the door and locked herself in (which explained why her foot felt slightly bruised).

She felt filthy. Tarnished. Humiliated. Dangerous.

With her head in her hands, sitting on the closed toilet seat she began to sob.

Why her? Why did things have to be so confusing? The end of the war had been such a clear moment, life and opportunities had unravelled leaving her a clear path to follow, but the second the adrenaline wore off everything tangled again.

Suddenly, she didn’t want that job at the ministry quite so much, grating her forehead against a desk for the foreseeable future wasn’t appealing, coming home to a life with Ron was _almost_ a depressing thought, and being in any sort of proximity with him was decidedly adverse, despite the fact she was convinced she loved him.

Hogwarts and Harry were the only constants in her life. Education was simple, uniform and routine; it was what she did best… Eat, sleep, study repeat.

As for Harry, he was uncomplicated and steadfast, more of a brother than a best friend, he was there for her through thick and thin; most likely she’d only have a few minutes to herself before he inevitably came to check on her (and dealing with the myriad of things that were developing into a general feeling of ‘all wrong’ was a conversation she didn’t particularly want to have).

It was like waking from a timeless dream when the tears finally stopped.

Her sniffles echoed off the tile, but she managed to compose herself enough to exit the stall and wash her face, hoping to soothe her puffy eyes and blotchy skin.

The small bathroom was like another realm, existing outside the castle, outside her problems, far away from doubt or thought; it was a place she could truly collect her thoughts, if only for a moment. She leaned against the sink, studying herself for a moment as she returned to the present.

Staring up at the four-poster canopy that certainly didn’t belong to her (seriously where did all the grey come from? Her décor was red) she contemplated what she knew about the rest of her night, drawing a blank on the events that transpired after exiting the bathroom.

So many things were coming to a head, stress was high, and she had so many choices to make, none of which were straightforward; and there she was blatantly and unashamedly kissing a man that wasn’t her boyfriend, liking it far more than she should have.

Merlin, there was something about the way he captured her attention; He’d kissed her like a man who intended to die happy with the briefest taste of her on his lips… Like he knew she wouldn’t let it go once she felt how much he wanted her, that an unseen bond would manifest between them from then on.

She buried her face in what had to be the softest pillowcase she’d felt in her life, feeling less ashamed and more excited, perhaps even tentatively hopeful.

Yes, things were coming to a head whether she liked it or not and there were issues that needed to be dealt with.

‘If it's broken, fix it or buy a new one.’

Hermione had a feeling she knew what she needed to do.

Feeling fully alert, she scanned the room properly for the first time since waking; her ostentatiously red dormitory was gone, replaced with muted shades of grey and gold, one ornate canopy bed sat in the centre, not a single roommate in sight; she studied the room closer, looking for evidence of who the space belonged to…

She couldn’t have anticipated how wholly incorrect her assumption of an impossible one-night stand was, though she was quite glad.

However, it was the first clue something was very, very wrong…

The first thing she noticed were _her_ books. The worn spine of her well-loved copy of ‘The Winter’s Tale’ by Shakespeare sticking out among the organised tomes; then War and Peace, Austen, her Dickens collection and an entire section dedicated to history (both books she owned and ones she had dreamed of buying if she could afford them).

Once she had recovered from the shock, she began to notice other things… A green knitted sweater hanging over the end of the bed, a red dressing-gown thrown haphazardly over the armchair in the corner, her reading glasses on the antique bedside table and ornate photo frames placed lovingly atop its twin… She walked around for a closer look, hoping to satisfy her curiosity.

The images they contained shook her to her core. She was smiling in all of them, standing beside an all too familiar blond, happier than she could ever remember seeing herself. But of course, there was one image that truly dosed her with reality, one that made everything seem all the more screwed up.

The one that drew her eye most was of her in a white dress, Draco Malfoy cradling her face (his fingers gently caressing her cheekbone) and kissing her softly on repeat. She watched it over and over, processing until she was finally able to notice one fine, extremely important detail; a second before the picture looped, ‘photo Hermione’ brought her hand up, placing it over Draco’s tenderly; there was no mistaking the glint of light coming off her wedding ring.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two; split into short little scenes with actual developing plot before gratuitous (unnecessary?) smut haha :) 
> 
> I am so so soooorrryyy this was late... (thank an unexpected, last min trip for that) smut is coming up next <3

oOo

Standing apart from the rest of the party, watching over Hermione, whom they had laid down on a couch after her ‘mishap’ (if you could call it that when technically it wasn’t her fault), Draco could still feel his heart beating furiously against his ribs in the wake of what had transpired.

“Anyone know if she mentioned feeling unwell?”

“No, not a word.”

“I mean sure, we’ve all had a bit to drink and Blaise goaded Ron into that ridiculous bet and brought her into it as you planned I might add; but it’s not like I confessed my undying love for the woman, or did something equally as heinous. It was a bloody kiss. It might be Valentine’s day but I’m not as much of an insensitive prick as you seem to think I am.”

“What makes you think being a prick had anything to do with me asking for you to help split them up?”

“You didn’t see the look on her face Potter. The second she saw it was me she…” 

His face fell and Draco trailed off, unable to speak the truth of the expression he’d glimpsed on her face for the simple fact he wasn’t entirely sure how her horrified expression was intended. 

“Hmm, well at least the mission was a success, ‘what she thinks of you doesn’t matter’ right? I still feel awful, being so underhanded; but this whole ‘romance’ they have going, is unhealthy.”

“You’re telling me? I’m her enemy and she snogged me like a starving woman. Blaise, for all his dumb ideas and notions, does _actually_ have a clue when it comes to women, and that one is more repressed than she knows.”

“Mmh I noticed.” Harry deadpanned.

“Oh, shut up, this was all your idea you spectacled git, I don’t need you judging me.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to admit you _actually_ liked her when I asked you to help me split them up!” 

“I didn’t admit to anything.” 

“Not expressly, but that blush you’re sporting says it all; plus, you’re pasty so it’s worse, there’s no hiding it.”

“That’s not- I’m just- We’re _all_ pasty! It’s just the alcohol, I get flushed sometimes.”

“If you refuse to admit it, why did you agree to all this insanity.”

“Because I like seeing Granger cry and I’ll take any chance to get one over on the Weasel?”

“Funny, I don’t believe a single word that just came out of your mouth.”

“Well, you’d better because it’s the truth.” (it wasn’t)

“You know there’s no harm in it. Honestly, I honestly see it working out if you put the effort in with her. Hermione can be ruthless and stubborn, but she has a heart and it can be won. She hated us years ago too, thought Ron and I were the biggest fools to walk the earth until that troll came along and we somehow managed to bond.” 

“I remember that, awful night it was too, I remember screaming because Quirrell mentioned seeing it in the dungeons, and what did Dumbledore do? Sent everyone back to their dorms without considering where Slytherin is; We were terrified…”

“Well shit, I never thought of that.”

“It’s fine, neither did the Headmaster. Guess he thought Uncle Sev could handle it if we bumped into the bastard.” 

“Well, all that aside, my point is; there’s nothing to say a good apology and a little grovelling won’t go a long way. That’s what we did, and it seems to have worked; in Ron’s case a little too much.”

“Yeah, yeah we get it. She deserves better, you don’t want to see her make a mistake like marrying him because she feels obligated. We went through this when you gathered half of Slytherin house to make her Valentine’s day completely shite. 

“Wait, what?”

“Did you not consider checking the date your scheme was taking place on?” 

“Fuck, no. If she finds out, she’ll kill me.”

oOo

Still trapped in whatever strange, fresh hell she had entered after the night before, Hermione scoped out her surroundings with a critical eye.

Why did it all have to seem so homey? 

Why did the idea of being his wi- She choked on the word unable to wrap her mind around the concept. 

This had to be the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. 

Married to her worst enemy…

But he was more than that wasn’t he? All this confusion, that kiss… An image of Ron flashed in her mind’s eye and she realised, her logical ‘head’ was trying to stop her heart from telling her something; something important. 

“Urgh! FUCK ME!” She whined aloud. 

“That could be arranged, darling.” 

She whirled around to face the intruder, reaching for a wand she didn’t have. 

His hair was longer. That was the first thing she noticed, not to the point of appearing unkempt, but certainly long enough for her to mess up with her hands while she- 

What was she thinking!!? 

Wrenching her attention back to the man that was decidedly not the Draco she knew in reality (because he was smiling warmly at her and looked far too comfortable considering his shirt was glaringly absent), she plastered on a tight, barely-there smile, apparently the best she could manage and tried to act normal. 

Merlin, what even was ‘normal’ at this point? 

“Aw, don’t look at me like that sweetheart, I was kidding I promise-” he crossed the room and pulled her into a firm embrace, ducking his head to press a swift peck to her cheek. 

“Happy Valentine's day, Hermione.” 

Her head spun. He was still holding her, looking down with awe and adoration in his eyes... Ron had never really looked at her like that, in all their time together it had happened once, maybe twice? 

Her stomach dropped while her heart fluttered, its focus firmly set on Draco.

She was going to be kissed. She knew it and there was nothing she could do to prepare herself.

Why she was even letting it happen was debatable (it certainly wasn’t self-preservation in this weird alternate universe). 

This time it was sweet, none of the longing or desperation of the first time his lips had found hers; he took his time, savouring it, drinking her in until he pulled away, looking pleased with himself. 

She recognized that look. It was the same triumphant smirk he often wore when he managed to upset her, tinged with a hint of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite comprehend how he got so lucky. 

How odd that it be applied in this situation.

oOo

“Must’ve hit her head pretty hard.” He mused, keeping watch as Blaise took Harry’s place beside him.

“Well duh! She dropped like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckled.

“Blaise it isn’t funny.” 

“Sure, it is. You gave Gryffindor’s golden girl the kiss of her life and the second she saw it was you she passed out. That’s comedy if I ever saw it!”

“Merlin, keep your voice down will you.” He hissed.

“What? Annoyed that she reacted badly? What did you expect Drake? Only Weaselbee hates you more than she does.”

“Harry doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Ooh, what did he say?”

“Well, we all know he’s a bit thick but why would he choose me to drive a wedge between his two best friends, I’m not naïve enough to believe there wasn’t a reason. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Hmm, you might have a point.”

“She might not know it yet but I think there’s more to this than meets the eye, only, Harry won’t tell me and there’s no one more in the know than him; so I have no idea where to start figuring this bullshit out” 

A soft voice replied over his shoulder and he startled, much to Blaise’s amusement. 

“You could always ask someone who doesn’t know.”

“Hey, Luna.” He replied warmly, making room to include her in the conversation. 

“As I was saying; people are observant, don’t discount their assumptions, there’s truth to what people _think_ they know… And what they know they know too I suppose.”

Draco smiled privately to himself, understanding her meaning.

“By that logic, I ought to ask what you think, you’re wiser and more intuitive than the rest of them put together.”

“Aren’t you a flatterer.” 

“Only to get what I want.” 

“We both know that isn’t true Mister Malfoy.”

“Still works though, right?” he asked hopefully

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, smiling alongside them. She’d been a close ally after her time in his family’s dungeons; they’d spent many nights playing exploding snap and talking. She’d become a close confidante and good friend despite his old ideals. 

“All I’ll say is, when your aura is next to hers it’s quite a brilliant sight, your colours blend into such lovely complementary shades, and when you kissed her! I’ve never seen a brighter flare between two people. Even if she won’t admit it, she feels more than she lets on; but unfortunately, there’s always a looming grey shade clouding hers, you don’t have that same doubt, the air isn’t clear between you from her perspective and it shows.” 

Luna sipped her drink with a sense of finality, waiting for him to take in what she had to say. 

Blaise, however, was first to announce his interest in her theory (Draco was busy processing)

“Auras? That’s a thing?” 

“Mm-hmm.”

“What’s mine like.” 

“Ah, its rather pink, actually.” She responded shyly. 

“PINK!”

“Oh, don’t be like that, it’s a lovely pastel shade, My favourite, honestly.”

“Your-… Huh. I guess it's not so bad then.” 

Still dealing with the concept of ‘complementary’ being applied in any sense to himself and Hermione, Draco wasn’t party to the awkward flirting going on under his nose.

Luna had spoken at length about her abilities during her time at the manor and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t had the presence of mind to ask her what she saw between them. 

Ever the fool he supposed. Still, it meant more than he could ever express.

oOo

Hermione’s morning just kept getting stranger by the minute.

After kissing her breathless ‘Not Draco’ as she’d taken to calling him had politely asked her to get dressed, handing her a beautifully wrapped parcel before explaining that he had an entire day of surprises planned for her.

Ron would never have gone to such trouble, she thought dejectedly. 

Who’d have thought he could be such a romantic? Certainly not her; and yet there she was in a beautiful, floral, vintage tea dress, he had selected (per the card attached) because he thought it was better than buying her flowers that would only wither; fully prepared to meet the prospect of spending the most romantic day of the year with her notorious enemy, head-on. 

After losing her nerve three times, she finally managed to work up the courage to walk out the large double doors ahead.

She sighed with relief at the familiar sight of Hogwarts décor, too distracted to consider how odd it was for her presence in the familiar halls. 

Draco was waiting for her. Sitting with his back against the stone wall, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him. 

When he finally noticed the sound of her footsteps, he turned to look at her, his smile brilliant and pure. 

He didn’t have to say anything. His eyes called her resplendent, his gasp said she was radiant and the blush he tried so hard to hide told her he was so incredibly in love with her he couldn’t control his emotions. 

She had never seen Draco Malfoy so free. 

He collected himself quickly enough, taking her hand with a mischievous grin and leading her through the winding halls until eventually, she realised they were heading outside school bounds. 

They’d chatted along the way and frankly, she’d lost herself in their conversation. She wasn’t quite certain _when_ she had relaxed in his presence but suddenly his company was quite agreeable. Avoiding him so staunchly after the war meant they had never had a real conversation; she was pleasantly surprised to find he was utterly charming, witty and whip-smart. It was endearing the way he struggled to stay on the one subject, too excited about his next thought to maintain direction; most of her life he’d barely spoken more than a few insulting sentences in her presence and now… Well, once he started, she found she didn’t want him to ever stop talking.

He offered her his arm, looking down at her with a wink before apparating them to a vibrant green field. 

Her jaw dropped when he flicked his wand, revealing a quaint little cottage and a gorgeous vintage Ferrari her father would have drooled over for hours. 

“Why don’t you get her started while I grab a few supplies?”

“Uh, sure.” 

He kissed her cheek again, letting go of her hand and heading for the door while she guiltily fiddled with the keys he had placed in her hand. 

She needed to say something. 

Explain that she wasn’t the _right_ Hermione. Or at least not _his_. 

For some strange reason, she was holding on to the fantasy she had been granted, unwilling to tell the truth when he looked at her like she was a goddess. 

If a single kiss from him had opened her mind, a day in his company with easy affection, gentle kisses and learning who he truly was beneath the carefully constructed veneer he presented to the world could do irreparable damage to her heart, in the best kind of way. 

She couldn’t help but smile when he returned his arms laden with blankets and a large picnic basket 

“Where exactly are we going that we need this much food? You’ve got enough for a small army!” 

“Want to take a wild guess?”

“Hmm… Is it a surprise?”

“Got it in one, dearest.”

She popped the boot open, helping pack the various picnic items away. Once they were finished, he stepped around her and opened her door with an overacted flourish. She supposed it wasn’t too much of a stretch to consider him a gentleman.

If this was supposed to be her life, she found she rather liked the blatant way he loved her, even if she would never experience such a thing in her world.

Discovering he was an excellent driver was almost as much of a shock as finding out she was ‘married’. She could tell almost immediately that the car had no magical improvements, nothing to help him along; which meant he had learned the muggle way, most likely from her and had not argued that it was beneath him to drive rather than fly like a normal wizard. 

As though he could sense her thoughts, he took her hand and spoke almost in response. 

“Not entirely sure why I like this so much, but I must admit its nice to just spend time on the journey. Best thing you ever talked me into, even if I did get an earful for backing into mother’s prized antique pot after a failed attempt at reverse parking. Why we thought using it in place of a traffic cone I’ll never know.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. Even if she couldn’t remember, hearing bits and pieces about the life ‘other Hermione’ was building was a balm to her soul. At least one of them was happy. 

‘Both of you could be this happy if you would just let go.’

That traitorous little voice in her head had a point.

oOo

All veterans of a war they were far too young for, there had been plenty of people around that were more than capable of applying a proper healing charm; and yet Draco remained by her side, keeping watch.

Sitting on the floor, resting his back against the lounge as he listened to her even breathing while she slept, he couldn’t help his mind wandering. 

There were so many complications in the way of what he wanted. 

First and foremost was of course already being dealt with; Potter had made sure of that employing his help. 

Weasel had stalked off almost immediately after their little display and Hermione well… She was still out cold, that was evidence enough. 

The second was likely going to be the most difficult. Getting her to somehow change her mind about him. 

After speaking to Harry, Blaise and Luna at length, he had a lot to think about; but at the end of the day, he couldn’t visualize a version of reality where she forgave him let alone wanted him the way he wanted her. 

The only place he ever thought it possible was in his dreams and even then, half the time his sleep was fraught with nightmares and truly dangerous enemies around every corner. 

It would take a miracle for her to ever notice him. 

The night wore on and the crowd in the room of requirement began to dwindle, with the last few stragglers finishing their drinks, he soon discovered they were the only ones left. 

Unwilling to leave her on her own (just how strong was Ginny Weasley’s recovery spell?) and unable to take her back to her dorm, he focused his thoughts, reaching out the consciousness of the room to transform it according to his needs. 

He asked for two comfortable beds, a kitchenette and bathroom and watched the magic happen. 

The mess from the party cleared as the room shifted, tables and chairs shimmered out of existence and as the new space began to form apparently it had some creative license. 

The room was a subtle mix of their tastes, muted greys with touches of gold all over; their house colours looked rather good together; chic despite the old-fashioned furnishings.

With minimal hesitation, he carefully scooped her up off the lounge and carried her over to one of the beds, whispering a quick spell to peel back the covers and tuck her in. 

His heart throbbed and he forced himself to step away; distracting himself with retrieving a glass of water for her and placing it on her bedside table before retiring himself.

oOo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ehhrrrmm what can I say except my bad (i hope the could watching fluff makes up for it??)
> 
> like really really my bad. This is so late I feel awful, but dearies my muse did not want to cooperate at alllllllllll and now it's going to be over 10k when I post the smutty af epilogue; hahahahaha fuck 
> 
> I am literally this emoji Rn ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> HNNNNNNNNGGGG!!! *Ragequits at myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never one for rushed love stories but this came out of nowhere 
> 
> also i am incapable of writing cheating, so breakup first peeps :P
> 
> Also, didn't expect to find inspiration for Ron and Hermione's breakup where I did; its very much based on a tale I heard years ago on camp where myself and a bunch of girls were up all hours talking about our feelings and a dear friend explained that while breakups are never easy sometimes they don't end with screaming and crying or fighting, sometimes you're so tired of trying to stay together and stay afloat that you're overjoyed when the topic of breaking up is put on the table because you can let go and relax. I guess that stuck with me because here we are...

oOo

By the time the sun set on Valentine's day, there was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that she wanted the life this ‘other version of herself’ had.

After a gorgeous drive through the countryside with her hand clasped tightly in his, they found the perfect spot for a picnic, setting up in tandem by a glistening lake, snacking while she pried into her own life by getting him to reminisce.

A bottle or two of wine later and they were both giddy and even she had to admit, he was a lot of fun to be around. Half the time he was hilarious without even trying, and who would have ever thought he was a klutz?

He tripped over no less than four times, stumbling with muttered curse words and threats directed at inanimate objects.

She wondered if her Draco was the same.

Her heart ached with possibilities and she felt herself coming to a decision as they laid side by side watching the clouds go by in peaceful silence.

Whatever deity had granted her such blessed insight deserved every praise. Whether she was experiencing a vision of the future or an alternate timeline; it made her long for so much more than what she had resigned herself to settling for with Ron.

She deserved to be loved like this and now that she had a taste, had been shown the potential, there would be no stopping her (provided she ever escaped back to the real world).

He gently nudged her, bringing her mind back to the present.

“That cloud there looks like an elephant.”

She laughed, scanning the sky but coming up empty.

“Where?”

He pointed and she followed with her eyes, ignoring the way her inner voice groaned at the sight of toned muscle.

“Tch, it does not! Elephants have trunks, at best it’s a hippo.”

“Well, it had a trunk when I first pointed it out, not my fault it took you so long to find it that it changed.”

“Ooh! That one there looks a bit like Forks.”

“You know, it kind of does… And that one-” he pointed again “-looks like a hand.”

“Merlin, it does! With the sun poking through, I think it looks like its wearing a ring”

“Oh yeah. I see what you mean.”

He turned to face her then and she felt the moment shift from playful to poignant.

“I know it wasn’t easy, but I’m glad we’re here, I’m glad we made it this far and that somehow you love me just as much as I love you.” He sighed.

She didn’t know what to say. If there was ever a time to give up her pretence it was now, but in the back of her mind, she didn’t want to hurt him. It would be selfish to ruin such a perfect day.

Instead, she remained silent, choosing to curl into his side rather than destroy the work he put into celebrating the relationship he shared with _his_ Hermione.

They stayed that way for a while, soaking up the sun until an idea struck her. Hopefully, what she gained from it would be useful when she made it back.

“Draco, tell me how we got here?”

“Uh, we drove, remember?”

She swatted him teasingly.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. How did we get together? I want to hear your side again.”

He kissed her brow and nodded his agreement, turning on his side to see her better.

She listened intently, tucking pieces of information away, committing them to memory so that once she was back in her own reality, she could put it to good use; as he recounted, a plan began to take shape.

Some things were difficult to hear, others made her heart crow with triumphant joy, but by the end, she knew for certain that this was all a snapshot of her future (provided she went back and was brave enough to change _everything_ to achieve it).

Things that had taken place in their shared past hadn’t changed… Although, a number of their interactions had taken on new meanings once she understood his point of view.

There was so much she had never known about him, about how he regarded her; Draco kept his secrets so well, hiding the fact he’d liked her long before he cared to admit behind his inherited prejudices came easy.

He’d grown so adept at concealing his true self that after the war, rather than come clean in the hopes of easy acceptance, he’d taken every bit of her disdain and used to fuel his desire to redeem himself.

He tried time and time again to make things right, knowing that she would stubbornly resist; that after all the pain he’d caused it would be a long journey to earn her forgiveness and respect. She had been his Mount Everest, he was testing himself with her, learning to be better and she hadn’t even known that it was all for the sake of making himself worthy.

Something in her heart split and a tidal wave of emotion swept through her until she was forced to swipe at the unbidden tears dripping down her cheeks in a vain attempt to hide them.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed… He let her bury her face in his shirt, cooing in her ear until she quieted and he was able to explain that he had happily reconciled himself with who they had been because ‘if all those horrible things hadn’t happened they wouldn’t have become the sturdy couple they were now.’

The second she returned she was going to fix everything, take hold of the future she wanted with both hands, convention be damned. She’d built a life on not caring what people thought of her, (once upon a time ‘people’ had been an umbrella term for Draco); however, she’d fought hard, earned her place and found her pride and strength along the way.

If people wanted to whisper, stare and otherwise gossip about her ‘snap decisions’, _let them_. She knew the truth about what she would gain and that was all that would ever matter.

Her accidental insight into the future had to be predestined by the universe, to make sure they found the happiness, belonging and acceptance they both deserved. Cradled in his arms, all she could ever want was his heart (and to give him hers in return.)

No more doubt, no more hiding, no more lying to herself or Draco. One day she’d tell him about all of this, he might not believe her but if they were together it wouldn’t matter; her mind was made up. Hermione stood, ignoring the odd look ‘Future Draco’ gave her, intent on finding her way back to her proper time.

She extricated herself to his great surprise and stood, finally having the courage she needed to tell him who she was and when she was from. She took a single step forward, without looking where she was going and despite being on the cusp of turning to face him, she immediately tripped into an impossibly deep void, free-falling endlessly until her mind and senses went blank.

oOo

Tangled in unfamiliar sheets for the second morning in a row, Hermione jolted awake and immediately reached for her wand, overjoyed when she was met with the familiar smooth, wooden texture in her pocket.

She cast a hasty tempus diem and had to stop herself from cheering out loud.

She barely registered the throbbing pain in the back of her head as she thanked Merlin, Circe and Morgana she was back in the room of requirement with a hangover to boot.

It looked different, but that was to be expected. after all, it adapted to the users ne-

She froze, looking around as she recalled a detail from her last conversation with ‘future Draco’.

She’d been knocked out the entire time. She couldn’t possibly have asked the room for anything which meant…

She glanced around, spying a second bed slightly hidden behind a folding paper screen and the telltale signs of life beneath the covers.

He was here.

Her heart melted… It was just like he’d said.

He'd taken care of her all night, believing that her fainting spell was his fault because she was so disgusted by the fact he’d kissed her (if anything he’d done her a favour, sparking such strong doubt in her mind).

She scoffed to herself; ‘how ridiculous!’ She’d have to make a point of setting the record straight (then she’d settle her score with the boy who lived for his interference).

But first, there were a few things she needed to deal with.

Projecting her thoughts outward until she touched the familiar consciousness of the room, Hermione politely asked it to make a few minor adjustments before she ran out.

oOo

To say Ron took it well was an understatement.

Per his usual apathy when she’d ran into his room and promptly announced she was done pretending they were happy together, he simply shrugged and buried his face back in his pillow, snoring loudly a second later.

She was too elated for rage to touch her, but pettiness was certainly keen to have its day in the sun.

Wand in hand she cast an aguamenti and a violent jet of cold water burst forth from her wand.

Ron let out a shrill scream that woke the other boys immediately; not that she minded an audience.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

She rolled her eyes, pressing on determinedly.

“I was trying to speak to you, and you were being rude.”

“I was sleeping!” he shook his head, flinging droplets everywhere.

“And I. Don’t. Care! You’ve ignored my feelings for the last time and I’m _done_.”

Harry snorted and she realised that it sounded rather like she intended to murder his best friend.

Ron sat up abruptly and it was the most fight she’d seen from him in months.

“I ignore you!? You can hardly even look at me anymore!”

“Why do you think that is Ronald!?”

He quieted and his breathing deepened as he tried to think of a valid reason. She watched his expression carefully, hoping he would find it on his own.

When it dawned on him it took the form of an exhausted, dejected sigh.

“It’s the same reason I don’t listen, why I don’t care when you start talking about something I’m not interested in, why I never made an effort… Why neither of us made an effort.”

“It’s sad, but I feel the same. We haven’t worked for a long, long time.” she stated succinctly.

“Maybe it was also a bit of pressure from Mum to be with someone… Perfect?”

“Molly can be a little pushy, bless her. But Its not entirely on her, or you; I felt obligated too.”

“I know we need to talk about this more ‘Mione but honestly, I’m tired of it, aren’t you?”

Her eyes shone with fresh tears.

“I’m so fucking _tired_. I’m sorry too, so, so sorry; but I just think we need this to be over.”

“Yeah. I think we just needed the excuse, particularly you.” He accused lightly, with that trademark cheeky grin she hadn’t seen in months.

She laughed wetly (only slightly annoyed that she was crying for what felt like the millionth time).

“I’m sorry it all ended up this way.”

“I’m not. The way I see it, we got our answer; we know we don’t work and we can move on, eventually go back to being friends and find the right people, this time hopefully it’ll be someone who doesn't make me feel like I’m snogging my sister.”

“Wise words there Weasley.”

“Ugh, already with the last names? Its been a couple of hours since you kissed him and the bloody Ferret wore off on you?”

She choked on air, spluttering with indignation, which only served to make Ron laugh harder.

“‘Mione, for the love of Circe, we’re done here… Merlin, I can’t believe I’m about to say this; but will you please go and shove your tongue down that idiot’s throat. He’s been pining after you long enough he deserves your attention more than I ever did.”

In spite of everything, that was not the way she had expected their conversation to go.

She’d assumed there would have been bad blood, at least a few hexes between them, maybe a couple of broken knickknacks and enough yelling to wake half the castle.

But then Ron was right. They were exhausted, totally and completely spent, without a single shred of energy left to fight for each other, let alone withstand one more argument.

She would forever be grateful Ron had prioritized regaining their friendship without prompting and happened to be so accepting of what she planned to do with her liberation from their doomed relationship.

They’d spent months making no progress, it was always two steps forward and six steps back; for once in her life it felt good to give up on something.

oOo

She felt lighter walking back to the spot she’d asked the room to meet her. Possibilities swirled in her mind as she quietly opened the door hoping he didn’t stir.

Once she was certain he was still sound asleep, Hermione set about putting her plan into action.

First things first, breakfast, and a pepper-up potion. No sense having a heavy discussion with a hangover and an empty stomach.

With barely more than a whisper, an elf appeared beside her. List at the ready Hermione politely requested ingredients, quietly arguing that ‘No she didn’t want it all cooked for her and brought up, she wanted to do it herself’.

With one last offer of her jumper (S.P.E.W. may have fallen by the wayside during the war, but her independent attempts to free the castle’s elves had not) the elf clicked his bony fingers with a promise to return in a few minutes, vanishing before her eyes.

Magic truly was a wonder.

In the meantime, she bustled about, her socked feet almost silent as she stepped across cold flagstones.

First, she set the table, making sure it looked presentable before moving on to the next task. (Okay so maybe she was a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be at the prospect of making an out of the blue confession of love to their enemy?).

She found kitchen utensils neatly stacked in the cupboards, only what she required of course.

Naturally, the moment she grasped the stainless mixing bowl two house-elves appeared with a startling pop a basket carried betwixt them; it slipped from her fingers, landing with an outlandishly loud clatter that made all three freeze like deer in headlights.

“Mmmmdonnnwannnageuuuupppffhh!”

Hermione snorted quietly. Apparently, Draco Malfoy was not a morning person if her translation of his annoyed groan was correct.

He buried his head under the covers, reminding her rather strongly of an ostrich; though she certainly wasn’t about to go and drag him out.

Returning to the task at hand, she accepted the basket, only to end up thanking thin air for their trouble (with her history of advocacy they were all wary of lingering around her, she often wondered if they thought she might attempt to forcefully free them).

With the stove ignited, she made quick work of her ingredients, a smooth batter with a delicious aroma of cinnamon and apple sat waiting beside her as the griddle heated.

oOo

Draco Malfoy may not have been a morning person, but there was one surefire way to rouse him (and the earlier racquet wasn’t one). It was the same method many a mother had employed, across generations…Food.

When his own mother deigned to cook, he could always smell the acrid, failed, first attempt. The second try; now that was what got him up and racing to the dining table.

This was different. He knew for a fact he wasn’t at home, and he certainly hadn’t accidentally made his way to the kitchens and fallen asleep there (if he had it was going to be difficult to explain to the elves and Slughorn).

So, who the hell was cooking? Surely it wasn’t the golden girl, why would she ever bother to do something that nice?

The smell of tart apple and warm, cloying spice filled the air and he breathed deeply, letting it permeate the air in his lungs until it was all he could sense. His mouth watered.

Perhaps she thought he was the Weasel?

He cracked one eye open, peeking out from underneath the covers only to find that damn paper screen in the way.

Of course, he hadn’t wanted to leave Hermione on her own, but she deserved her privacy. He’d asked the room for it in the middle of the night, realising it might be a rude awakening to see his ridiculous bedhead first thing in the morning.

If he wanted to stickybeak, he would have to get up; however getting up would alert her to his presence and she might run, jinx, or hex him (he wasn’t certain what was worse, Hermione could be quite creative). It was a ridiculous, horrid catch twenty-two.

‘There’s always a third option’ the devilish little voice in his mind helpfully supplied.

He could always let her come to him. Surely that had to be worse? Playing on her assumptions like that?

He had to do something, but there wasn’t a single outcome he could think of that would end well for him, so he stayed stock still, listening to her quiet cursing every time she made just a little too much noise, finding the insight incredibly adorable.

Eventually and quite by accident, he dozed off again. Likely a lingering aftereffect of his alcohol-fueled late night. Either way he was gently rocked awake by a bemused looking Hermione Granger.

One of the better ways he’d ever woken up, he was naturally confused as hell. She was looking down at him with something akin to fondness; no annoyance, no shouting, no ‘GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE MALFOY!’. She just smiled with mirth and warmth in her gorgeous eyes that he had never been privy to before.

His heart raced despite his attempts to remain calm because she had also _touched him_ without flinching away. If anything she looked comfortable in his presence?

He wasn’t prepared for that smile to shift into a smirk while he was distracted, nor was he expecting the covers to be unceremoniously yanked off him with what he was almost certain was a giggle.

Now that was a sound he had definitely never heard her make.

How in the ever-loving fuck was it so cute?

Ugh, he needed serious help. This was a whole new level of self-flagellation, he thought with a frown.

“Oh, it can’t be _that_ bad? It’s past eleven, surely a little breakfast is enough to tempt you out of sleeping the entire day away? Besides, much to discuss, so, get up!”

She couldn’t be serious?

Perhaps he was stuck in some weird alternate universe? One where they were amicable and didn’t hate each other with a burning passion… Passion he’d always thought would translate into something spectacular if applied to activities other than arguing.

‘Don’t even go there Draco, no point wasting time on wishful thinking!’ he scolded himself.

Sitting up before she could make his morning even more extraordinarily odd, he was almost certain this couldn’t possibly be his life.

Hermione Granger had made breakfast, was being considerate and kind without a hint of condescension and had gently woken him up with a smile of all things.

Maybe he’d just gone crazy? Maybe someone slipped something in his drink, and he’d wake up to find he’d hallucinated last night, sleeping and everything else in between (leave it to his brain to come up with something that bland in a drug-induced state)?

Eventually, he decided that no matter what was happening, he ought not look a gift horse in the mouth. He got up and followed her over to the table, taking a seat and peering at her over the gigantic stack of pancakes between them.

She didn’t stand on ceremony, not that he expected her to.

The moment she had finished taking her share, he did the same and drenched it in maple syrup.

He almost teared up after the first divine mouthful.

When she started making conversation between bites, he had to genuinely hold back tears.

Never one to be openly emotional he figured it was warranted; the meaning of her gesture had, at last, dawned on him.

She was extending an olive branch; and he intended to accept it with two hands and a grip strong enough she couldn’t retract it.

If he had one chance to make things right this was it, she was ready and he could finally, finally make amends.

Of course, He hadn’t realised he’d zoned out in the process of coming to such an important realisation; only managing to catch the tail end of whatever she’d been saying.

“…So I guess, now that I’m free to ask, I just wanted to see what my options are… Ugh that sounds stupid-’ she hung her head in her hands with a blush ‘-I want to know if _you’re_ an option because something lifechanging happened the other night, and everything seems different now, and you seem different, and I know I’m rambling; like, just take a breath, Hermione, geez. But I think there’s more to all of this before, now that I’m being less of a stubborn arse about it.”

“Sorry, come again? Being a stubborn arse about what?”

“I guess that was a bit much all at once… What I’m trying to say is, I think there are a few things we deserve to know about each other and if you’ll be honest with me, I’ll extend you the same courtesy. Do you catch my drift?”

“Hermione, do me a favour will you?”

“Uhm, sure?”

He held his arm out across the table, staring her down with a serious expression.

“Pinch me?”

oOo

It took her a moment to comprehend what had just happened.

She’d poured her heart out, albeit awkwardly and he’d been so confused by it he’d requested her to pinch him.

Merlin, she had issues.

Why couldn’t she just announce it outright?

_‘I had a crazy dream about us in the future while I was knocked out and now, I want to see if I can fall in love with you for real because we were married and so happy and that's all I will ever want.’_

There, not so difficult in her head; why couldn’t she make herself say it?

Right, because this was _her Draco_ ; she was in the past, they hadn't put in the work to figure things out, she wasn't married to him yet and they weren’t even close to being comfortable enough with each other to have such an insane discussion.

She needed to salvage this somehow.

Breakfast had been a ploy to keep him in the room (an effective one too; apples were his favourite after all) until she could figure out how to talk to him, now she actually had to get to the point and was choking, badly.

Her mind raced through possible scenarios, all of which ended with him dismissing her with a scoff… except one.

It was a risk. Perhaps the biggest one she’d ever take… But if she was successful, she wouldn’t really have to say another word.

She’d seen, _really seen_ how he’d been looking at her all morning; in the future, he’d explained how he tried to hide those furtive glances before she could catch him. Now, she knew what to look for and all the signs were right there for her to use to her advantage.

Her solution was pure madness but if her hunch was right, it would put them both on the same page regarding her intentions with extreme speed and accuracy.

There was little more debate to be had.

She slid her chair out with a screech and strode to his side of the table; grabbing his face with both hands before he could react and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t the best plan.

She pulled back the second he started to splutter; their cheeks tinged with matching shades of pink. In the moments that followed, she kept her eyes on the floor, praying it would swallow her and end her humiliation.

“Wha-? How?- I'm... Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you do that, Hermione?”

“I just told you why!”

“I don’t understand though?! You went from rambling about how you’re free and wanting to know about possibilit- Oh!”

“Yeah, OH!-” she feigned blowing hair out of her face with a frustrated huff.

“You were trying to ask me something, weren’t you? In your own crazy, ‘I’m Hermione Granger and I can’t admit my feelings outright’ way?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed by his truthful teasing.

“Yes. Okay. I know we hate each other and it’s ridiculous of me, but-"

“-but something in you just had to say you wanted to know if I was a possibility, as you so eloquently put it? In other words, you like me… Which is crazy because you’re still Weasley’s.”

“I’m not his possession!”

“Really? Because it sure seemed that way a few hours ago?”

“I’m… I- _fine_ ; you have a point, but if you were listening at all, you would know that situation has changed; you’re really not doing yourself any favours debating this with me.”

“No?”

“No.” she replied resolutely.

“Can I have a do-over then?” He looked at her intently and reached for her hand. She automatically took it, letting him pull her closer to stand between his knees.

“Of course you can.”

She smirked at her own response, knowing exactly what he had planned with that mischievous expression on his face.

For absolutely no reason at all, she decided to sit on his lap rather than stand.

“Why?” he queried with wonder in his tone and hope in his eyes.

She kissed him again; slow and sweet, pouring everything she could into it. This time he was ready for her, he kissed back with unexpected ferocity, still tender but so overwhelmingly raw and emotional... she drank him in until she was intoxicated, finding that she hardly wanted him to let her go.

a second, third and fourth kiss only confirmed it; he was hers, she was his and from this point on that was what they would always mean to each other; healing, balance, forgiveness...

In that moment, it felt like something old made new again, the beginning of a life that hadn't happened yet, a life she had glimpsed but didn't fully experience; Really, there was only one answer she could give:

“Because... I think it’s always been you.”

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY VALENTIENES DAY DARLINGS <3
> 
> I had so much fin writing this, huge thanks again to all the organisers, the SD fam and of course WEAVEROFDREAMS45 for the most workable prompt ever <3 
> 
> (I apologise in advance to whoever got me bc I had no idea what i was doing with prompting, my bad).
> 
> Thanks so much for giving this a read please feel free to drop a kudos or a comment <3 
> 
> *Slides on shades and goes off to read all the other amazing works in this fest 
> 
> xoxo Em


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